


Wide Open

by esteefee



Series: Doors [6]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-02
Updated: 2009-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-17 10:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gets out of the infirmary. There is too much talking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wide Open

Sheppard had already left the infirmary when Ronon returned after his morning run. For a moment Ronon felt a chill of unease, but then he himself always checked out of the infirmary as soon as he could stand on his feet; he shouldn't be surprised if Sheppard wasn't willing to wait for his return.

Still, as he walked toward Sheppard's quarters, he wondered if he'd even find him there. Maybe John was running away. Maybe having McKay visit had changed something—set them back.

Maybe Ronon had committed himself too soon.

McKay's expression had been strange as he stared at them both in the infirmary. If Sheppard had seen the significance, the dawning awareness in McKay's eyes of what he'd given up, maybe Ronon would have to fight.

He was willing to fight. He'd always been good at fighting, even when the cause was hopeless.

:::

There was no response to the chime at John's quarters, and Ronon's heart sank in a swift fall to nestle coldly in his stomach.

John wouldn't be with McKay. He couldn't.

For once wishing he'd bothered to wear one of the many radios Sheppard had forced on him over the years, Ronon tried the computer lab next. Zelenka was there, glasses perched on a frown as he peered at his screen. He looked up and raised his eyebrows.

"Hello, my friend. What brings you to our stuffy place of work?"

Ronon had always liked Zelenka, if only because he stood up to McKay's barrage of personality. "I'm looking for Sheppard. You seen him?"

"I heard he was sick in infirmary."

"No, he's fine. They let him out."

Zelenka smiled. "Is good news. I will check for you." He tapped his radio and called for Sheppard.

Ronon waited.

"Yes, Colonel. Sorry to bother you." Zelenka looked over. "He is in meeting with Mr. Woolsey. He did not sound like, as they say, 'a happy camper.'"

Ronon couldn't stop the smile. "Thanks, Z."

"You laugh at my language skills. It's most unkind." But Zelenka was smiling.

Ronon ducked back out and then, on a whim, went to the mess hall. They might still have some pastries left from breakfast. Sheppard was sure to be hungry after eating infirmary foods for a day.

No pastries were left, but there were packets of cupcakes, the chocolate ones with the hardish frosting on top. Sheppard loved those, so Ronon took two and stuffed them in his pockets, then decided to go back to Sheppard's quarters and wait there. Woolsey had to be done with him soon.

Ronon was moving swiftly down the corridor and had just turned a corner when he almost ran over McKay, who jumped back and raised his computer tablet like a shield.

"Oh! You scared me," Rodney said.

Ronon crossed his arms and smiled. "Sorry."

"Not _scared_ , really, more you startled me," Rodney babbled nervously, "Can't you just saunter like normal people? Where were you going in such a hurry, anyway?"

Ronon thought it better not to respond. He shrugged, and McKay's eyes flicked keenly back over his shoulder toward Sheppard's quarters.

"I see," he said, his lips a thin, crooked line. He looked like he wanted to say more.

Ronon was tired of the whole thing—of the secrets the three of them knew, and the stupid way they refused to say anything because that might upset some balance.

They were team. There should be no secrets; not this kind, anyway.

"You're still angry," Ronon said.

"Angry? I'm not angry. Why should I be angry?"

Foolish bluster. "Sure you are." Ronon shrugged. "I don't get you, McKay. It's like you wanted to keep both of them—"

"I don't want to 'keep' anyone," McKay interrupted stiffly.

"Maybe you didn't think so. But it's not up to you anymore. You made your choice—"

"It wasn't my choice to make!" McKay's voice rose sharply.

"Yeah, it was. You just didn't realize you were making it. Not smart."

McKay's face turned so red Ronon was worried he'd break a blood vessel. Feeling a little sorry for him, Ronon said, "Well, you have Keller. She's what you wanted."

"Yes, I have Jennifer," Rodney said, recovering. "And we're very happy."

"I'm glad. I really am, McKay. You're good together." And Ronon _was_ all right with it, after all. He'd gotten over his embarrassment at getting turned down, and now he just felt relieved. Because there was something about her a little too close to Melena, and he could never quite trust his own motives in pursuing her to begin with.

Sheppard was about a million light years from Lena, except where it counted. Except the look in his eyes staring up at Ronon while lying in the infirmary, like John couldn't believe his good luck.

"I'm glad, too," Rodney said. "She's quite a woman."

"Yeah, she is. So, take care of her," Ronon said gruffly, and then stepped around McKay to head toward John's quarters.

He knew John would come soon.

:::

John was trying hard to be patient, but if Woolsey went on just a little bit longer about his plans for the new health questionnaire, John was going to blow out of there without waiting to be dismissed.

"So, I think you'll agree this census could possibly save lives. We need to know what allergic reactions could put our people's lives at risk."

"Yup. We'll have Keller's team get right on it." John laid his hands on the conference table as if he were about to get up.

"And it will be up to the supervisors to make sure all the people in their command fill them out in a timely fashion. Agreed?"

"Uh huh." John looked longingly at the door.

"You seem distracted, Colonel. I would think you of all people would be for this idea, considering what you've been through the past couple of days." Woolsey's voice went brighter. "Ah, Dr. McKay. I was just outlining to the Colonel the plan I mentioned. I know I can count on having _your_ support."

John turned his head just enough to see Rodney hovering in the doorway, and smirked. "He'll probably be first in line to get his new bracelet."

"Bracelets! What a wonderful idea."

John suppressed a groan.

"We'll print them up à la the old-style medical alert bracelets."

Rodney said, his voice a little weird, "Dog tags would be better, I think. It's hardly a good idea to have bits of metal dangling from your wrists while manipulating electronic circuits."

"Oh, yes. I see." Woolsey sounded disappointed. John made a mental note to find Woolsey a charm bracelet for his Secret Santa gift.

"I've come to fetch the Colonel, actually. He's needed in Lab 2."

"Of course. Well, thank you for your time, Colonel Sheppard," Woolsey said formally.

John shot Rodney a grateful look and nodded at Woolsey before high-tailing it from the conference room. "Thanks," he said as soon as they were out of earshot. "The guy could talk the ear off one of those mutant donkeys from P8R-118."

Rodney didn't say anything, and John slowed until they were walking side-by-side. "What's the emergency? Or did you make it up just to spring me?"

"No. Well, hardly an emergency; I just needed to speak with you." Rodney sounded stiff, almost polite. Rodney was never polite.

"Oookay." _Oh, shit,_ John thought. _He wants to say something. About everything._ He ducked his head and let Rodney lead. This was bound to be ugly. Neither of them were terrific on the communication front, and there was too much between them to handle it gracefully.

John promised himself he'd keep his cool no matter what. No matter what.

"Here," Rodney said, pushing him through a door to some empty quarters so they could talk. McKay even took it one step further, leading them into the bathroom; excessive, maybe, but John appreciated the paranoia.

Shit, that was something he'd have to talk to Ronon about: the need for discretion.

"What's up," John said, slouching against the tile, which warmed under his back. John gave a silent thank you to the city.

"Ronon was looking for you."

"Mm-hmm."

Rodney jutted his chin. "I want to know how this works. I need to know—there's too much going on in my head. It's distracting, Sheppard. I can't afford to be distracted," he finished petulantly.

 _Be cool_ , John reminded himself. "How what works?" he asked patiently.

Rolling his eyes, Rodney made a weird gesture meaning—what, John wasn't sure. The two of them? A lopsided pyramid? "This whole thing. This—you, Keller. You and Ronon...and us," Rodney finished in a more uncertain tone.

John sighed. The Benedryl Keller had shot him with was catching up to him, making him feel tired and gummy-mouthed. He let himself slide down the wall and sat with his elbows resting on his knees. After a moment, Rodney followed, grumbling as he settled himself down on the floor.

"Rodney," John said as calmly as he could, "There's nothing to worry about. Everything's fine."

"Fine for _you_." Rodney's chin jerked up again, his cheeks pink.

"Fine for you, too, isn't it? Isn't this how you wanted it?"

"I wanted...no! Why does everyone keep _saying_ that? I don't get to do anything! I didn't get any say! And now you're always off with—you don't even come by the lab anymore."

"I was in the infirmary!"

"Before that—"

"Before that, you were on Earth flying with the jet-set."

"What about before that?" Rodney's voice dropped low, and he suddenly looked nervous. "When I—the parasite. After the pier that last time. Remember?"

John knew exactly when Rodney was talking about. The exact moment when John had finally thought Rodney, distilled to the purest essence of himself, was about to admit to what was going on between them.

He'd taken Rodney back to his room from the pier, both of them a little giddy from the beer, and the fear, and he'd put Rodney to bed. He knew Rodney wouldn't be able to sleep on his own. And Rodney had whispered, "It's your bed, you should sleep here, too." So, John had lain down behind him, trying to keep from shaking, and Rodney had pulled John's arm around him and held it against his chest.

"John. John," Rodney had said, as if reminding himself. And John had taken the ultimate risk and kissed the back of Rodney's neck just below his hairline. Rodney had shivered.

John had hoped— _God_ , he'd hoped so badly—that Rodney would turn in his arms and kiss him, or even just pull John's hand down to his cock and let John touch him. But nothing happened, nothing happened, they'd poised there forever like the moment before take-off, and sometime while he was still waiting, John had fallen asleep.

The next morning he'd woken up first and gone for his run. He'd come back to find Rodney had slipped away past understanding, past remembering. He was like a child, and wanted nothing more than a child's comfort.

Rodney had never since mentioned that night, and John assumed he'd forgotten. Apparently he hadn't.

"I remember," John said, even though he knew he shouldn't—should never acknowledge it, since Rodney never had before.

"You do. You do so remember," Rodney said, his eyes bright, almost feverish with something.

John said as gently as he could, "I do remember. I remember I...I kissed you, Rodney." The hoarseness in his voice was wrong. He cleared his throat and said calmly, "And you didn't want it."

"That's it?" Rodney said incredulously, "That's the only—?"

"And the next day," John interrupted, "during your recording session, you told Keller you loved her."

Rodney's mouth closed with a snap.

"So." John rubbed his palms against his BDU pants, itching to get the hell out of this conversation. "Was that it? Are we done?"

"What? No! That's not everything. That's not nearly everything!" Rodney looked panicky, and John sighed.

"No, you're right—we're still friends, Rodney. We're team. That's a lot. That's plenty."

"Wait—"

"And I have somewhere to be."

Rodney watched him push himself up the wall, but didn't move to get up himself. "I wish..." he muttered as John left the bathroom, and John hurried toward the exit, not wanting to hear.

"...I wish I'd...just once—"

The swish of the door drowned out the rest.

:::

John took the long way back to his quarters to give himself time to get his head on straight. It didn't matter. It didn't make a difference. It was just too little, too late.

He laughed at himself bitterly. That was the same thing he'd thought when he'd failed to get Holland to safety. This wasn't a tragedy, not like that. Whatever might have happened with Rodney didn't matter. In fact, knowing Rodney remembered that night just told him how hopeless it had been from the start. Rodney had never given the slightest sign, and had rabbited almost directly into Keller's arms.

John was glad they would still be friends. They'd still be team, even if McKay was a little uncomfortable right now. But John couldn't worry about him anymore, because Ronon was probably still looking for him at this very moment.

Ronon, and his big heart. It would be too damned easy to hurt him. John couldn't let that happen. As far as he was concerned, his little detour with Rodney never happened. He took a deep breath and swiped his hand over the panel at his quarters.

Ronon was there. He was standing by the small table next to John's bed, holding some of his DVDs.

"I recommend the Dr. Who," John said a little breathlessly.

Ronon had looked up when he came in, but made no sign of coming over to him. "Hey."

"Hey."

"Your door was unlocked." Ronon looked disapproving.

"Nope. I just keyed it to let you in."

Ronon smiled, a sweet, shy smile that set John's heart racing. He told himself to take it easy. There was still something on the docket first. He'd been a goddamned idiot not to bring it up sooner, actually.

"Uh, before we—" John ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "I wanted to talk to you about something. Before anything happens."

Ronon's brows wrinkled together a little dangerously.

"For you," John said hastily. "I don't want you to get hurt."

The words didn't seem to be helping. Now Ronon's face set blankly. John recognized it as his survivor's face. His Runner's face.

"You know we have rules, right? In the U.S. military? My country's regs—"

Ronon's expression lightened. "I know all about that. We had those on Sateda, too."

"You did?" John wasn't sure why he found that so surprising.

Ronon nodded. "It wasn't allowed—soldiers of the same sex being together—unless they had children first. As an unmarried man without children, they would have kicked me out of the service."

"Oh."

"Yeah. It was a population thing. Had to have enough children to replace the ones the Wraith took." Ronon sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Crap. Well, it's not because of population problems for us, I can tell you that."

"Doesn't matter. We just won't let anyone know."

"McKay already does."

Ronon nodded. "I know."

"You do?"

"Yeah, I ran into him down the hall."

"A lot of that going around," John muttered, and then wanted to bite his tongue. But, though Ronon raised his eyebrows, he didn't ask any questions. John felt a sudden surge of warmth in his chest.

Ronon stirred. "We should tell Teyla, too. It's only fair. They can both keep it within the team."

"Yeah." John swallowed. "So."

"So."

"We're cool."

Ronon smiled that little smile again. "But you're still all the way over there, Sheppard."

"Well, when you put it that way..." John could feel a grin taking over his face. Thank God the talking was over. It was all a little too cold-blooded. But now—

He walked over to the bed. Ronon's knees parted for him, and John stood between them. Ronon was so damned tall—even with him sitting, all John had to do was put his hands on Ronon's shoulders and lean over, and he was inside kissing distance.

Ronon took immediate strategic advantage and hooked his hand around the back of John's neck. And, God, John had been wanting this so badly, and for so damned long—not just to have someone kissing him with deep, soft kisses, but for someone who gave a damn about him to finally want him back.

"Sheppard. John," Ronon said, kissing him again, soft, full lips tugged at his until John moaned in appreciation. He'd wanted Ronon since the day he met him. Since the time he'd seen Ronon take out three marines in under a minute. No, longer—since he'd had the Runner in his sights while the tracking device was cut out of him without the benefit of anaesthesia. John had watched the powerful man collapse, and for some reason he'd wanted to go to the Runner and shelter him. Protect him.

And as Ronon wrapped his arms around John's waist and pulled him over and down onto the bed, John realized he'd finally earned that right. To hold Ronon safe—not just as a team member, but as something more.

"I've got you," John said, knowing Ronon wouldn't understand but wanting to say it anyway to the man he'd first seen.

"I know." Ronon's hands yanked John's T-shirt from his pants, and then slid up underneath and caressed John's chest. "What do you want?" Ronon asked, suddenly sounded uncertain. And, Jesus—his hands were trembling.

John blinked. "Hell. Anything. I've been waiting so damned long—"

"Me, too." Ronon pushed him flat and stripped him of his shirt, then stared down at him seriously. "Anything."

Heat raged in John's cock at the offer. "Fuck, yeah." He stood up to get out of his clothes, and saw Ronon doing the same out of the corner of his eye. When John was naked, he turned and allowed himself for the first time to really look.

Ronon was sitting on the side of the bed, his weight resting back on his hands. John's vision was filled with what seemed like yards of golden skin and Ronon's thick, ruddy cock.

John found himself kneeling in a haze of pure need to suck it into his mouth.

"John. Shit." Ronon's fingers dragged into his hair, and John moved his head to feel Ronon hold on tighter. Then he licked his way down Ronon's cock until it filled his mouth, until his throat ached with the pressure and his jaw was spread wide open.

"So long. It's been so long," Ronon groaned.

John agreed. It had been too fucking long since he last did this. Too many nights wanting it, falling asleep alone in his narrow bed. Too many days seeing people around him hooking up, finding each other, leaving him behind.

And too many years in the Air Force unable to indulge in this, to trust anyone with this much of himself. But now, tasting Ronon, feeling Ronon's cock rocking gently over his tongue, he couldn't imagine how he'd survived without it. Every day he'd been dying a little, and never even realized it.

Ronon's breath caught, the only warning John had before come started pumping into the back of his throat. He pulled away a little, resisting the push of Ronon's hands so he could hold the tip of Ronon's jerking cock just within his lips and taste everything he had to offer. When Ronon's thighs twitched under his hands, John released him and knelt back. Ronon gave him a rough shake of gratitude with one hand on the back of his neck.

"Fucking great," Ronon said, looking relieved, and John grinned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Come here."

John stood up on shaky legs only to be toppled down to the bed and attacked with kisses. Ronon went at his mouth first, licking at him, and then nibbled on the tip of John's ear until he squirmed.

"Cut it out," John said, trying not to laugh. His ears had always been pathetically sensitive.

"No way. Been staring at your ears for forever." Ronon's lips teased him again, and this time a tingle shot straight from John's ear and into his spine, making him arch his back.

"Fuck. Fuck."

"Anytime you're ready."

"Smart ass," John said. He used Ronon's distraction to hook his ankle around the back of Ronon's knee, then twisted and pushed until Ronon was flipped onto his back.

"Nice move." Ronon didn't seem too worried. Instead, he stretched his arms back over his head and let his legs fall open.

If John had been ten years younger he would've come right then.

"Ronon." The skin of his neck tasted like honey for some reason. Maybe he used one of Teyla's weird soaps. Only John wasn't thinking about Teyla right now, he was thinking about the texture of Ronon's skin, smooth as silk, and the way it almost had a shine to it where it flattened across his chest. His nipples were small and hard against John's tongue. He took one between his teeth and tugged until Ronon made a sound he hadn't made before.

For a second it was all too much. John wasn't sure he deserved this—the riches of Ronon's body, the greatness of his heart. John couldn't deserve it, because he'd failed so much in his life.

But Ronon was giving it to him anyway.

John wished he could thank him out loud, but he couldn't. So, instead he worshiped the body that cradled the heart, doing the best he could to show with mouth and tongue and hands what it meant to him. He was so caught up in the effort that Ronon had to tug hard on his hair to get his attention.

"Ow." John cocked an eyebrow.

"Now, Sheppard."

"John. Damn it."

"John. Now, John. Fuck me."

John closed his eyes for just a second, and then rolled off the bed. He didn't have any lube, but there was a strip of condoms growing dusty in the bottom of his drawer, and he had to have something in the bathroom that would be safe to use with them. But Ronon's husky voice stopped him.

"I have something. I brought something."

"Yeah?" John crouched down and handed up Ronon's leather pants, which crinkled oddly. Ronon dug out what looked like a couple of Hostess cupcakes and then—John hadn't been sure anything could beat the view of Ronon's ass in those pants, until he saw Ronon sprawling onto his stomach and offering up a pair of little packets of lube.

"It's not much," John said doubtfully.

"We don't need much." Ronon was curling his lips at him.

John didn't want to hurt him. He didn't care how tough Ronon was, it wouldn't be right. But when John slid one slick finger inside the heat of Ronon's body, Ronon just groaned with satisfaction. The same noise he made when he bit into one of those cupcakes for the first time, John realized with a grin.

And the sight of Ronon arching his back and saying, "Keep going," made John hurry in with three sticky fingers, stroking against the strong muscle clenching around him. So soft and hot inside.

John's hands were trembling when he finally fumbled on the lubed condom. Ronon looked over his shoulder, commenting, "I hate those things."

For some reason, John didn't want to know in what circumstances Ronon had used one. "It'll help me last, anyway."

"Good. I want this to last." Something in Ronon's voice told John he was talking about more than the sex, and John had to lean over Ronon's broad, strong back to kiss him.

He was already in love with the way Ronon kissed, so intent and purposeful, his tongue heavy in John's mouth.

"God, you're wonderful," John heard himself blurting, and felt his ears burn.

"Mushy." Ronon touched John's ear with a fingertip. "I like it," he added when John cringed a little. "Come on." Ronon gave him one last kiss and turned away to lay his head on his arms.

John rested his forehead between Ronon's shoulder blades and guided his cock between the cheeks of Ronon's ass until he was right up against Ronon's slick little hole. John pushed.

Ronon's back heaved in with a breath, and John stayed there, afraid to move deeper. But then Ronon did this weird shimmying thing with his hips and suddenly John was sliding in, in where it was hot and tight and fluttering around him.

John dropped to his hands and started thrusting, as slow and hard as he could, wanting Ronon to feel him. Wanting Ronon so badly to feel him, to want him there. And Ronon responded, pushing back, still silent, but shuddering a little under him.

"You can make noise, you know," John rubbed his cheek against Ronon's shoulder, "The walls are sound-proof."

But Ronon just grunted and pushed back, the muscles of his thighs hard against John's, and John gave in and started pumping faster, rolling his hips now as he thrust, until Ronon did make a noise, a little whimpering sound that shivered into John's nuts. But he wouldn't come yet, no way, so he just repeated the movement, over and over, rocking in and rolling his hips, listening as Ronon started to pant, and then John finally reached around to take hold of Ronon's heavy cock.

John pressed down hard at the base with his next thrust in, and Ronon _yelped_. John mashed his smile against Ronon's skin and did it again.

"John. _John_ ," Ronon said hoarsely, and it was close enough to begging that John pushed in and held right there so he could balance on his knees and jerk Ronon's cock. It was big, and getting harder suddenly, and as John stroked he let himself think about what it would be like to take such a thick cock, so that when Ronon finally came, whining and rippling around him in waves, John jerked his hips a couple of times and came too, helpless to stop it. It felt like the orgasm was pulled straight from his balls, and he almost blanked out at the sensation.

When he could think again, he realized Ronon was patiently waiting, still supporting his weight. John muttered an apology and held the base of the condom so he could ease out.

Ronon hissed when he did it, and then maneuvered his legs around John so he could lie on his side at the edge of the bed. He stared with heavy-lidded eyes as John tied off the rubber and dumped it in the trash then settled back next to him.

"Pretty good," Ronon said. But he was biting his cheek.

"Yeah, not too shabby." John couldn't quite stop the grin, and Ronon leaned over and kissed him a little punishingly.

"You know what today is on Sateda?" Ronon asked when he pulled away.

John shook his head. The expression on Ronon's face whenever he mentioned Sateda made John want to kill the nearest Wraith. Slowly, and with extreme prejudice.

"It's Pelumbenat. When the next year starts."

"New Year's, we call that."

Ronon nodded. "New Year."

John smiled. "How did you know? Are you tracking Satedan days?"

Shrugging, Ronon said, "McKay. When he almost ascended that time. He made me a little thing, about this big—" Ronon held up his palm. "It converts the days for me. Atlantia for Sateda, and back again."

"Well, Happy New Year, big guy," John said, feeling awkward at the mention of Rodney when they were lying here naked, with Ronon's hand still moving on John's thigh. Big hand. John had never been in the position of being the smaller partner before. When he was young and stupid in Basic, he'd gone for guys his height; rangy guys, usually Army or Air Force, who could run thirty klicks a day carrying weight.

Not that Ronon couldn't; hell, he'd make it look easy, and then kick someone's ass at the end of it.

So, it was weird, but John didn't find he minded so much being outmatched that way. Because Ronon looked to him for other things. Things Keller could never have given him. Christ, John should be jealous of Keller twice over, except it wasn't her fault she was smart and quirky and beautiful and pulled them to her. John should be grateful, instead, she'd let Ronon go. Because Ronon suited him. They suited each other.

"What?" Ronon asked. John realized he'd pulled Ronon over until he was almost on top of him. They were touching from shoulder to knee, one long line of skin against skin.

"Just...this," John said inarticulately.

But Ronon seemed to get it. "Yeah." He snuck his arm around John until his fingers were tucked in, wedged between the mattress and John's waist.

"What do you guys usually do? For Pelu—Pelumb—" John yawned widely. Jesus, he was wrecked.

"Pelumbenat. Usually we light candles to usher back the sun." Ronon laughed a little. "And then we fuck."

"Oh. We did good then."

Ronon laughed outright this time. "Real good. Now go to sleep. Keller said you need lots of rest."

John lifted his head. "I do," he said solemnly. "I need lots of bed rest, lots and lots—"

Ronon kissed him fiercely for a second. "You'll get it."

"Heh."

"Shut up, John. Go to sleep."

John did.

:::

It had been a long time since Ronon had slept with someone so close, and with every sleepy stir of John's body within his arms, he found himself rising to wakefulness.

He didn't mind. It gave him a chance to give John a drowsy kiss on his neck, or rub his cheek against the bristly softness of the short hair that grew on John's nape.

John mumbled something in his sleep each time, something that sounded like, "Hey," and, "Mmmm." It was cute, Ronon admitted, so that the third time he woke up after John jerked in his sleep, Ronon kissed him through the mumblings until John's eyes blinked open.

"Hey," he said, more clearly.

"Hey." Ronon kissed him again, making his intent known, and then slid his hand back over John's ass to play with his asshole, making Ronon's other intent known. John lifted one leg easily over his to give him more room, and Ronon took that for permission.

They still had the other packet of lube, after all.

"Where did you get that, anyway?" John asked, and then he stopped talking and started moaning when Ronon breached him with two fingers.

"I stole them from the infirmary when Keller wasn't looking," Ronon said. He wasn't sure if John's response was a laugh or a sob—Ronon had found his sweet spot and was working it just to feel John's ass tense and release.

When Ronon finally slid in, John on his side with one leg caught in the crook of Ronon's arm, it felt like he was finally in the right place. Not that earlier hadn't been great, but first times were always weird, and John had been so careful, like he was afraid Ronon would break.

But now they were more familiar, and Ronon knew John's moans of pleasure, like the pure sound of disbelief he made when Ronon finally pushed inside him; like the harsh breaths John panted out when he was close; and like the low grunt John made when he finally came. Ronon turned him to his back then and took him again, this time from the front so he could see John's face, watch his glazed eyes roll with pleasure. This would be his favorite, Ronon decided, taking John while he could watch, feeling John's legs, lax and open, resting on Ronon's arms while Ronon fucked him.

And afterward, he was no longer surprised to find John liked to be held, liked to be within the circle of Ronon's arms.

"We're gonna need a bigger bed," Ronon said, and John laughed as he'd hoped.

"Jaws, right? Bigger boat." John ducked his head and nuzzled Ronon's palm.

"Bigger everything," Ronon said, knowing he wasn't making much sense. But it did feel as if everything were bigger—the sky was wide open, as it hadn't been since he was a youth on Sateda.

As he fell asleep again, he dreamed it was there above him, big and wide and blue.

  


_End._


End file.
